when Ben Zoof returned. "And what does his
Excellency say?" inquired Hakkabut.

"Why, Nehemiah, he says he shan't give you any."

"Merciful heavens!" began the Jew.

"He says he doesn't mind selling you a little."

"But, by the holy city, why does he make me pay for what anybody else
could have for nothing?"

"As I told you before, you are not anybody else; so, come along. You
can afford to buy what you want. We should like to see the color of your
money."

"Merciful heavens!" the old man whined once more.

"Now, none of that! Yes or no? If you are going to buy, say so at once;
if not, I shall shut up shop."

Hakkabut knew well enough that the orderly was not a man to be trifled
with, and said, in a tremulous voice, "Yes, I will buy."

The professor, who had been looking on with much interest, betrayed
manifest symptoms of satisfaction.

"How much do you want? What will you charge for it?" asked Isaac,
mournfully, putting his hand into his pocket and chinking his money.

"Oh, we will deal gently with you. We will not make any profit. You
shall have it for the same price that we paid for it. Ten francs a
pound, you know."

The Jew hesitated.

"Come now, what is the use of your hesitating? Your gold will have no
value when you go back to the world."

"What do you mean?" asked Hakkabut, startled.

"You will find out some day," answered Ben Zoof, significantly.

Hakkabut drew out a small piece of gold from his pocket, took it close
under the lamp, rolled it over in his hand, and pressed it to his
lips. "Shall you weigh me the coffee with my steelyard?" he asked, in a
quavering voice that confirmed the professor's suspicions.

"There is nothing else to weigh it with; you know that well enough, old
Shechem," said Ben Zoof. The steelyard was then produced; a tray was
suspended to the hook, and upon this coffee was thrown until the needle
registered the weight of one pound. Of course, it took seven pounds of
coffee to do this.

"There you are! There's your coffee, man!" Ben Zoof said.

"Are you sure?" inquired Hakkabut, peering down close to the dial. "Are
you quite sure that the needle touches the point?"

"Yes; look and see."

"Give it a little push, please."

"Why?"

"Because--because--"

"Well, because of what?" cried the orderly, impatiently.

"Because I think, perhaps--I am not quite sure--perhaps the steelyard is
not quite correct."

The words were not uttered before the professor, fie